echoes of defiance (Rewriting)

chapter 36

"Wake up, stubborn head," I heard Zain’s voice drift through my slumber, tugging me from the remnants of an exhausting dream. Slowly, I blinked my eyes open, and there he was, the familiar, handsome face I had fallen so deeply for, smiling down at me like I was his world. His eyes glinted with warmth, but it didn’t take long for reality to crash back in—everything he had told me about his grandfather and the complications with Qatar flickered through my mind.

"If he continues to defy them, they’ll strip him of his title and every benefit from Qatar," I remembered Zain explaining, though it was clear he didn’t care. He owned this building we were in, along with seventeen more across fast-developing countries, thanks to a business his father had set up with his mother’s inheritance. But still, the thought of him being blacklisted by his own country haunted me, even if he brushed it off. He was staring at me as I drifted deeper into my thoughts, his brow knitting with curiosity.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, his voice laced with amusement.

"I love you," I mouthed quietly, letting the weight of those words linger in the air. I watched as his eyes fluttered closed at the sound of them, savoring the moment like it was his first time hearing them. I smiled. "Aren’t you cute?" I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

He chuckled softly before telling me, "Amma woke up three hours ago." His hand gently tapped my cheek as if to coax me fully awake. "Go shower first, she's been asking for you."

My eyes shot to the clock. "Three hours? What time is it?" I asked, still groggy but already feeling a wave of guilt wash over me.

He avoided my gaze, looking almost sheepish before replying, "Umm... six."

"Six P.M.?" I asked, hoping I had just lost track of time.

"No," he said with a small, knowing smile.

"Six A.M.?" My eyes widened in shock. "Zain, you let me sleep for 15 hours straight? And I didn’t pray?!" I asked, disappointment sinking in.

His face softened, guilt painting his features. "Mom said not to wake you. She came by yesterday after you fell asleep and told me your blood pressure was high. Why didn’t you tell me?" His voice was laced with concern, as if he blamed himself for not noticing sooner.

I felt a pang of guilt seeing him so distressed. "What did I do to deserve to my dear wife? I’m sorry, wifey." His grip on my hand tightened, his gaze unwavering. "I only belong to you, okay?" His words were full of tenderness, as if he was promising the world and more, just to ease the sadness in my heart.

My chest tightened with emotion, realizing how much he was giving up for me. He was willing to defy his lineage, his heritage—everything—for me. The enormity of it weighed heavily on my heart, and yet, in his eyes, there was no hesitation. He was choosing me. He had always chosen me.

Zain lifted my hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against my knuckles. "Don’t overthink it," he whispered. "I’d do it all again for you."

Tears welled in my eyes, but not from sadness this time. It was love—raw, unfiltered love that made my heart ache in the best way possible. How could one person mean so much? How could he look at me with such devotion, as if every part of him was tied to me?

"Zain..." I began, my voice cracking, but he cut me off with a gentle smile.

"No more tears," he said, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "You're everything to me. There’s no defying that."

My heart swelled, and I couldn’t help but smile despite myself. "I love you more than anything," I whispered, reaching out to cup his cheek.

He closed his eyes at the touch, his lips curving into a tender smile as if my words alone were enough to keep him grounded. "I know, baby. I know."